Cup

.
Grandpas Cup
.
this is how I most
remember her I’d have been
maybe nine I walk to her house
we have tea at her table
I ask for grandpa’s cup
which she brings from her pantry shelf
and sets it on the table
pours hot water into its metal
beige enameled bowl
with light green steam-blessed rim
adds a teabag a little sugar
I stir and sip as she
in Slovak-embellished English
asks about my day and life
to the background atmosphere
of chicken boiling in the soup
she made so well
and calls me
Jeemy
………… I have that cup

—when the house was sold long
after they’d gone we were gifted
with a last-chance tour
and there’s my grandfather’s cup
on the shelf where it had ever been
and
as was anciently told
I asked and it was given

Jim Culleny
© 6/7/19

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